Hot Cars and Pretty Girls
by Damonficgirl
Summary: A short story told in 8 x 100 word drabbles. Season 9 Dean needs to let off some steam... and of all people Sam finds himself encouraging him. Light hearted but also a bit schmoopy.


Title: Hot Cars and Pretty Girls

Characters: Sam and Dean

Setting: Post 9x17

Word Count: 8 x 100 words

Prompt: Impala, food.

Summary: This started off as a silly one-shot drabble but each drabble led to another and the 8 of them ended up telling a story of their own, though most could stand alone.

"Oh baby, you look so good," Dean crooned as he spread the wax across her sleek black paintwork. "I bet that feels better doesn't it? Poor girl. Daddy's neglected you lately haven't I?"

Sam cleared his throat pointedly. "We're going out."

Dean startled but was more annoyed than embarrassed, "What?"

"You need to get out. To a bar. Tonight. I can't believe _I'm _the one saying this but come on Dean, how long's it been?"

"What?"

"Since, you, y'know…," Sam gestured vaguely and Dean finally understood.

Dean wanted to explain why it wasn't a good idea, but Sam wasn't wrong…

"It would be good to take her out for a spin when I'm done," Dean reasoned.

"Oh you won't be driving home," Sam smirked.

"Don't tell me you're planning a big night Sammy?" Dean gaped.

Sam shrugged. "We've both been pretty tense lately. A night off would do us good."

"Who are you and where is my uptight prudish little girl of a brother?" Dean teased. He winced slightly at the word 'brother' but Sam didn't react.

"Hey, you've been telling me to loosen up for years."

"Yeah, but I didn't think it would ever happen."

"Jerk."

"Bitch." Dean smiled.

"Two shots of Jack," Sam ordered and shifted on the barstool to survey their options.

Dean swallowed the shot automatically and signaled for another.

"So, you interested?" Sam asked, gesturing towards a leggy dark haired beauty.

"What are you my pimp?" Dean complained. The role reversal was weird but he could feel Sam trying to draw out the old Dean, the cavalier womanizer that wasn't marked, at least not in this new terrifying way.

"Lets make it interesting, first to pick up gets to drive for a week," Sam challenged.

Dean shook his head in amusement. The game was on.

"Hey these are great aren't they?" Dean grinned, sucking the salsa off a Dorito as he leaned in close. Okay so he was rusty but he hadn't forgotten everything.

"So good," the girl grinned and mirrored his behavior, lapping at her own nacho.

Dean liked girls who weren't afraid to eat in front of him. Lisa was like that. And Cassie. He didn't let himself compare her dark almost black yes to Lisa's. It helped that this woman's skin was paler and her lipstick was redder.

And then she said she liked classic cars. Well. He was Dean freakin Winchester.

Lots of girls pretended to be interested in cars. Lots of girls pretended to be interested in a lot of things, and mostly it didn't bother Dean when they both knew it was just a game, a dance where both parties displayed their feathers and intentions like peacocks. But when Mackenzie ran her hand across the freshly waxed paintwork and made an involuntary "ooh."

He had no intention of seeing her again or making a habit of bringing girls back to the bunker, but he was too cheap for a motel and damn it he had that memory foam mattress.

Dean was filled with regret moments after emptying last night's nachos into the toilet bowl. Seriously, who brought random pick ups back to their secret lair? What the heck was he supposed to tell her? Hey thanks for everything, please don't tell anyone about our secret underground bunker? Crap. This was all Sam's fault. Sam who had probably had the good sense to either go home alone or go to the girls place for the night.

It had been kind of fun though. Okay more than kind of. But how the hell was he going to wriggle out of this?

"Cas I swear I will never ask you to do this again," Dean promised. "I screwed up. I get it. Just help a guy out, just this once? You remember what it was like to be human don't you?" Dean pleaded.

Cas resisted the urge to complain that Dean had done fairly little to 'help a guy out' during his own time as a human. Instead he obliged Dean yet again and made a few minor though ethically dubious alterations to the girl's memory so that she might plausibly think she spent the night in a regular albeit extravagant house.

Dean got home from dropping Sarah(?) off to discover Sam cooking bacon and eggs in the kitchen.

"Hey, figured you'd be hungry," Sam grinned. "I just got back myself," he gloated.

"I should salt you and cut you with silver but I'm hung over and that smells amazing," Dean quipped skeptically. He was too tired to sift through his relief that his brother was being companionable again so he just accepted a plate and coffee and dug in gratefully.

Sam watched happily. Dean was eating again and even with the hangover the older man seemed… lighter. Today they were okay.


End file.
